The Fairest
by iamthefairest
Summary: King Donovan and his brother, Prince Aidan, are the last remaining members of the Snow White ancestry. The King's obsession with beauty has brought him many a failed marriage in a very "Henry VIII" fashion. But when Prince Aidan falls in love with the mysterious Cinderella, he must do everything he can to keep her beauty from the King or she may face the same fate.
1. Prologue

Hey everyone! This is my first time writing fan-fiction. I'm actually a filmmaker and hoping to write a screenplay based on this story, but I wanted to get some feedback about it before I go devoting a few months of my time to write a script. I'm basically trying to get the story out of my system before I forget it and see how it flows and everything. I am VERY open to hearing your opinions, and making possible storyline changes based on your suggestions. As such, I'm not used to writing in this kind of format, so please bear with me! The film will most likely have a PG-13 rating, but if you want me to add some juicy scenes for your own enjoyment, I will be happy to (although they won't make it to the film) I just want keep you interested! I hope while you read you can kind of try to picture this as a movie in your head, because my goal is for it to end up in that format!

Cheers, BG.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~PROLOGUE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time there lived a magnificently beautiful queen. The kingdom reveled in her beauty, and the king was finally happy again after the loss of his first wife. But the queen knew that she was not loved. Her beauty was what snared the king, but deep in her heart she knew it would soon fade.

Day by day, the king's daughter grew more and more beautiful and mature, her raven hair healthy and shiny, her red lips as soft as satin, her fair white skin as young and glowing as ever. The attention that was once directed toward the queen was slowly ebbing its way to her stepdaughter, Snow White.

Sensing the queen's insecurities, an old beggar woman came to the castle one day to bestow a gift upon the queen. It was a large, gilded mirror, with intricate ancient carvings and a beautiful grand shape. Its reflection had magical properties that made its subject appear even more radiant than true life. The queen graciously accepted, touched by the mysterious old woman's kindness. The mirror was placed in a secret room in the palace where the queen could lose herself for hours admiring her youthful beauty. Consumed by her vanity, she soon became obsessed with maintaining her youth and spiraled into a fit of despair. The king, saddened by the distressed state of his bride, would do anything she pleased to keep her complacent. She ordered more and more mirrors to be purchased for her own enjoyment, to the point where a whole wing had to be added to the palace to accommodate her personal hall of mirrors.

Some years later, news was brought to the palace proclaiming the king's death in battle fighting in another faraway land. The entire kingdom mourned the loss of their kind leader, and the queen was inconsolable. She believed that in her state of fading youth, she would never find another man who could love her. In her desperation, she turned to the powers of evil and dark magic in order to bring her beloved hall of mirrors to life. Deeper and deeper she fell into this manic state, calling upon the powers of evil to fulfill her desires until her once pure and warm heart had turned as cold as ice.

One day, when consulting her magic mirror during her daily routine, the queen was shocked by a new revelation:

_Mirror, mirror, on the wall,_

_Who is the fairest of them all?_

The queen mused, to which the mirror responded:

_You, my queen, are fair, 'tis true,_

_But soon will be one fairer than you._

And there began the story of Snow White. A story, like many other fairy tales, we have all come to love and pass along to our own children, commending the heroine for her apparent goodness and purity we've derived based on her stunning looks. But what we do not realize, is that these stories themselves are what bring us pain, leave us feeling insufficient, and teach us that there is really only one, true thing that will always bring us our happy ending.

Beauty.


	2. A Hunting We Shall Go

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~CHAPTER 1~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

King Donovan snores loudly in his lavish curtained bed. Boyish dark curls partially cover his long lashed eyes, making him appear more innocent in his sleep. A sudden streak of sunlight jolts him awake as Prince Aidan violently opens the red velvet curtain. "Damn it, Aidan! What time is it?" the King yells, groggy and annoyed.

"The entire hunting party is waiting for you. You're an hour late. I told them you were trying to catch up on your beauty sleep… they didn't seem amused." the Prince jabs.

Donovan shoots him an irritated look. "And what are you all giddy this morning for, princess?"

Aidan's ice blue eyes light up in excitement. "I finished my crossbow design last night. I was up until dawn making some last minute adjustments and I couldn't wait to try it out this morning so I stayed awake practicing on some targets in the sports ground. This thing has incredible range and accuracy!" he proudly lifts up his invention, a complicated contraption fashioned out of iron and wood.

Donovan seems unimpressed. He rolls his eyes as he leisurely gets out of his comfortable bed and moves to his armoire. "You do know that we have people who can do that for you. Why do you waste your time on such trivial things, brother? You're a prince for Christ's sake, shouldn't you be using your time for more…_recreational_ activities?" a wicked grin appears on his face as two beautiful brunette servants enter the room. They remove his dressing gown, and he continues, undeterred by his state of undress. "Now, this crossbow of yours, can it kill a man?"

Aidan looks confused, and uncomfortably averts his eyes from his brother's nakedness. "Sorry, what?"

Donovan turns around, his perfectly carved stomach muscles flex as the women struggle to get the white linen shirt over his head.

"Well you just crafted a weapon, for most persons, the goal of which is to shoot to kill, am I wrong?"

"No… well I didn't mean for it to be used as…"

"So you spent these past weeks locked in your dungeon designing an intricate weapon for the specific purpose of shooting _bunnies_?" he chortles.

"Well no... I think it could take down a deer actually, or maybe even a bear…"

There is a short pause in the conversation as the king turns to button his pants.

"Great. Send the design to my military commander. We could certainly use something like that in mass quantities in case of a short range enemy attack."

"What? But there's not even a threat of war… and besides you've bedded half the queens of neighboring kingdoms, I highly doubt they'd start a war with you…"

"Unless their husbands found out." Donovan says with a wink at one of the servants. She blushes, embarrassed at his coarseness. He pops a cherry in his mouth from the tray of fruit laid out on his dressing table, turns on his heel, and exits the room in a grand flourish.

Down by the stables, a small hunting party has already gathered, waiting for the brothers to arrive. The men sit atop their stately horses, impatiently awaiting the arrival of their tardy king. Among them is the queen, a stunning young woman with long, wavy blonde hair, soft blue eyes, and creamy white skin. Her beautiful grey gown flows over the side of the white Arabian horse as she sits regally in a sidesaddle position. She seems distracted and uncomfortable, however, and focuses her attention toward the stables.

"Ahh, Rosaleen, my beautiful queen. How did the night fair you?" the king stands by her horse and places a gentle hand on it's snout. The queen remains cold, maintaining her averted gaze. With a sigh, Donovan turns toward the crowd. "Who's idea was it to bring a woman hunting, anyways? Aren't they more of a hazard than a help?" There are a few uncomfortable laughs, and the men look at each other in silent agreement. An older, rugged looking man with a missing front tooth and squinty right eye nervously responds, "Some say they bring good luck sire…a woman's docile aura can bring out the animals and give us opportunities for more game."

"Right. Well let's get to it then, where's my horse?"

A tall, brawny man appears from the barn, leading two brown thoroughbreds on each side. "Your horse, sire." he says, bowing his blonde head. He quickly steals a glance at the queen before handing the reins of the second horse to the prince.

"Thank you, Philip." says Aidan. "Remind me to show you this crossbow I've designed, I have some questions about arrow efficiency…"

"Enough, Aidan. We've kept these men waiting long enough. Make room, Rosaleen… best you let the men ride ahead eh? Wouldn't want one of those arrows landing in that pretty head of yours," he says in a sarcastic, menacing tone.

Philip's eyes blaze in anger, he looks up defiantly at the king. "That is no way to talk to a lady, sire," he says between gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the white stallion rears onto its hind legs, and the queen takes off into the forest before them without looking back.

"Shall we go after her, sire?" shouts one of the men, readying his horse.

"No no, let her be. She's in one of her moods." the king lazily waves a hand. He looks down at Philip, whose dagger eyes have not faltered.

"And as for you, that is no way to talk to your _king_, gamekeeper." He snarls. "I can choose how I speak to my _wife_, thank you," he says with a hint of a smile.

"Now, let's get to hunting before she scares everything off, shall we?" they nod in compliance and enter the forest. The king, who trailed behind, glances back at Philip, but he had already begun his trek back to the stables.


	3. The Mirror

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter 2~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor sits in front of the hearth in the large stone kitchen, her strawberry blonde curls fall into her face as she works away at shucking the corn for dinner. She pulls another ear of corn out of the bag, shucks it, cracks the end off, and places the husks in the bowl of water on the ground by her feet. Shuck, crack, splash, shuck, crack, splash. Her small hands work swiftly, blurring the light scars that cover them. The old mangy cat with a torn ear and milky eye purrs loudly on her lap, unaffected by the constant movement. When the task is completed, she sets the shucked corn aside, picks up the cat and gently places him in a small basket in the corner where he continues to purr.

She makes her way to the cupboard across the kitchen, unconsciously retying her apron that came loose along the way. Inside, she moves a bag of rice, a huge head of cheese, and a bag of onions out of the way so she can get to the sack of potatoes in the very back. Taking a seat at the heavy wooden table in the middle of the room, she begins to peel the potatoes one by one, humming a tune softly under her breath as she works.

_Only happy people sing_. She muses. _I have nothing left to sing for._

She drops the peeled potatoes into the iron pot of boiling water hanging in the fireplace, pulls off a sprig of dried rosemary left hanging above the hearth, and adds it to the water.

With her food preparation complete, she pauses for a second to think of what to do with her few precious moments of solitude.

_How nice it is to have the house to myself for once._

She heads to the window, looking for any carriages on the way back to the manor. With no one in view, she quickly pads up the stairs and up to the second floor. Seeing her stepsister's bedroom door left open, she cautiously steps inside.

The room is luxuriously decorated, with a large four-poster mahogany bed as its centerpiece. The walls are covered with mirrors, each of them cloaked with beautiful ornate fabrics. Eleanor quietly walks to the beautifully carved wooden vanity and sits down in front of it. Bottles of various powders, lotions, and sweet-smelling liquids almost completely cover the surface. Leaving the mirror covered, she screws open one of the bottles and begins blindly covering her face with the creamy substance. She goes to screw the lid back on, but after catching a glint of shine from the faint scars on her hands, she adds some of the lotion to them as well. Next, she removes the glass stopper in one of the lead glass perfume bottles, takes a sniff, and dabs a little onto her delicate collarbone. Admiring the silver handled brush, she gently picks it up and lightly combs through her hair, careful to set it back in its exact position when she's finished.

She gets up to take another careful glance out the window, making sure the coast is still clear. Her eyes scan the room and find the glorious armoire, filled with dozens of beautiful gowns made of the finest fabrics. They beckon to her; their crystal adornments sparkle as the last remaining light of the day catches them at different angles. She chooses a magnificent rose-colored dress, and quickly puts it on over her thin work dress. She twirls around and around, admiring how the long train floats lightly behind her as she spins.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too." She curtsies to the air. "Why, thank you sir, you are too kind." She exclaims while placing her hand to her chest and batting her eyelashes. Suddenly, clattering hooves resonate from under the window.

Cursing under her breath, she runs aimlessly to each corner of the room in a panic. She darts out and runs to her own room down the hall, quickly removes the dress, bundles it up and throws it under her bed, wrenches open the window, and jumps out. She lands softly on the thatched roof of the barn below her, which is only a few feet under her bedroom window. Finding the hole in the roof she keeps hidden, she removes the makeshift covering and climbs inside. Voices trail from in front of the manor and quickly become muffled as they enter the house. Eleanor steadies her breath as she crouches in the upper level of the barn.

"Eleanor!" her stepmother cries. "Where are you? I've brought some items back from the market, get in here and get them from the carriage."

"Argghhhh!" a disgusted scream pierces the air. "What is this flea-ridden scoundrel doing in here? Get him out NOW!"

"Charlotte, he's just a silly old cat, he's not harming anything, and plus he keeps the mice out," a calm, younger voice responds.

Eleanor enters the kitchen from the backdoor to see her stepmother and stepsisters looking down at the cat, each with a different expression on their face. Charlotte's honey colored eyes wrinkle with utter disgust as she look down at the poor creature, while her younger sister Lucy seems to have taken pity on him. Their mother, Priscilla, remains impassive, weighing the pros and cons of letting the cat sleep in their kitchen.

"He can stay for now, at least for the summer… that's when the rats run rampant around here and I would much rather have a scruffy cat in my home than those revolting vermin!"

"Thank you mummy!" exclaims Lucy, picking up the poor old cat and squeezing him tightly.

Priscilla places some bags on the kitchen table, and looks up at Eleanor.

"Eleanor, the carriage, please… I've had a very stressful day, do I have to make myself more clear?"

Eleanor passes by Charlotte, who gives her a curious look. "And what were _you_ doing while we were out? Reading by the fire again? We all know how much you enjoy that, don't we?" her tone is mocking, and her eyes light up with wicked amusement.

"Enough Charlotte, my head hurts. Set the table while Eleanor gets our things from the carriage." Priscilla collapses into one of the wooden chairs, exhausted by her day of shopping.

"But mother!" Charlotte protests. Priscilla simply lifts up her hand, silencing her. Charlotte begrudgingly begins to set the table.

Outside, Eleanor has begun unloading the carriage of her stepfamily's recent purchases. She places the hatboxes, bags of candy, dresses, and shoes into a neat little pile on the cobblestone entryway.

Lucy emerges from the front door, looking shy and fragile. "Charlotte shouldn't talk to you that way. It wasn't your fault…"

"It's okay Lucy, I've learned to ignore her," she says as she carries the last box over the threshold.

"Well, _I _still think that it's rude and…_unladylike _for her to talk to you in such a way." Lucy puffs herself up, emulating the posture she has been taught over her few years in finishing school. "Anyways, I snuck this back for you… I know you've run out of books and Charlotte was just going to throw it away…" she pulls out the latest edition of "The Mirror", the kingdom's tabloid paper.

"Oh Lucy, thank you… but you know I don't read this garbage. And you shouldn't either! It's just a bunch of gossip and fluff to fill everyone's heads with nonsense about the royals." Lucy's smile fades, and Charlotte can't help but be touched by her genuine thoughtfulness. "But…you know, there looks to be some…informative articles in here," she says, trying not to disappoint the child. "Yes, thank you… I think I'll read the article on the king's latest successful quest." _That should be interesting. And completely bull. _She thought.

Lucy's eyes instantly widen in excitement and admiration. "I heard he disarmed an entire gang of gypsies before rescuing that poor girl that they had kidnapped!" Charlotte can't help but roll her eyes.

She gives her younger stepsister a warm hug, climbs up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she collapses onto her bed, "The Mirror" in hand.

Thank you everyone for your kind reviews! I really appreciate your kind words, you are really keeping me motivated to keep writing. As I mentioned before, I'm not used to writing in this format (I'm used to screenplays!) so I'm having some difficulty with describing everything and getting into the character's heads since they don't do that in scripts. It's also weird writing in present tense.. but that's what they use in scripts as well. Anyways, I love your input, the story hasn't really been unraveled much so far yet but when major plot points start coming out, I would especially love your opinions! I want to make this a film people will actually want to watch! :-)


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